


'Cause We're Growing Up, But Damn We're Still Young

by DoctorFitzy (KittooningMalijah)



Series: webseries au [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Webseries AU, both are kind of lowkey, it started fluffy and then stuff happened, youtubers au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 06:12:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6742324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittooningMalijah/pseuds/DoctorFitzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The weight of guilt made him think about things a lot differently, but at least there was enough to do to keep himself busy. There were videos to be made and appointments to keep and a friend to babysit, and Grant refused to let himself slip up when it came to any one of those things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Cause We're Growing Up, But Damn We're Still Young

         The elevator ride was almost soothing by then, the hum of the machinery all but white noise while he adjusted the backpack on his shoulder and scrolled through his phone. He had two new texts from Jemma, and the usual spam of notifications that came with the upload of his latest video the day before, assuming at least one of the texts was to let him know that she’d made it back to the hospital before he had without even looking to read it. When the elevator came to a stop, Grant already had his phone back in his pocket so that he wouldn’t be distracted while stepping out into the familiar hallway.

         It had been a little over three months since the fire at the convention, and things still weren’t back to anything close to _normal_ , but at least there was one upside to the day. With the discharge papers printed and ready to be processed, he’d gotten the opportunity to finally dig out Leo’s favorite blanket and a spare pillow for his back seat. With a two hour drive ahead of them, comfort was a top priority, ranking just _below_ safety.

         He entered the room with a neutral expression, barely making it through the door and setting his bag down on one of the chairs before his presence was noticed. “Grant!” Even just the single syllable wasn’t quite as strong as it used to be, but this was definitely progress. When he first woke up, Leo couldn’t even say that much, and if the silence during his coma had been strange, the fact that it was still just as quiet for weeks afterwards was even worse. The fact that he was at least speaking in simple sentences again was a relief.

         Of course, Grant didn’t fail to notice when his friend’s gaze immediately went to the backpack that had been brought along, hopeful expression obvious, and he unzipped the biggest pocket with a sigh. He spared a short glance over his shoulder toward the door before taking out the light blue tube of candy out from under the sweatshirt that had been folded and shoved into the tight space, confident that there was no hint of the candy having ever been there. “I have these mini m&m’s, and two snickers bars in the car for the drive home.” Immediately, he caught sight of Leo’s hopeful grin, shaking his head while zipping the backpack up again and holding the candy up where it could still be seen. “Earn it.”

         In a matter of seconds, the grin faded into an annoyed frown. It was the same routine they’d had for weeks -- Grant would bring in a snack, and Leo would prove that his recovery was still progressing before he got to eat it. Except for the occasions when Jemma would regulate his sugar intake, but they’d gotten better at hiding it when she was around. After a few short moments of concentration and thought, he watched while the bedridden Scot pointedly held his gaze for a few drawn out seconds.

         When he spoke again, Leo’s words were unsteady and careful, and it was clear that he was putting effort into what he was saying so that he wouldn’t stumble over the words too much. “I’m... _not_ a d-d-... _pet_.” As soon as he finished the sentence, he held out his hand for the plastic container of chocolate, looking properly smug about even those four words on their own.

         With a dramatic sigh, Grant tore the clear plastic away from the lid before popping it open with his thumb. It didn’t take long at all to pull over the wheeled table until it was positioned over the Scotsman’s lap, pouring out a small pile of the colored candies onto the false wooden surface. “You can pick them up -- practice your hand-eye coordination.” Almost as soon as he’d said the words, he was hit directly in the cheek with a small, red piece of chocolate, letting out another sigh while giving a small nod of his head. “I didn’t mean _like that_ , but good job. Don’t make too much of a mess -- we have to hide all of it when Jemma gets back. Where is she, anyway? I thought she’d be down here before me.” Pausing for a short moment, he dug his phone from his pocket to read the texts he’d ignored before, hoping to find an answer there.

**[ text | from: Jemma ]** Working late. There was a small incident in the lab.  
 **[ text | from: Jemma ]** I’ll meet you at the apartment. Don’t fill Leo up on chocolate, because I know you’re bringing him some. He shouldn’t be having any of that.

**[ text | to: Jemma ]** We’ll see you when we get up there.  
 **[ text | to: Jemma ]** He’s getting discharged, he can eat whatever he wants.

         He rolled his eyes before putting his phone away again, moving the backpack so that he could drop down into the chair. If they had a few extra hours, then nothing had to be rushed, which meant he could actually _relax_ for a few minutes instead of hurrying to get everything together so that they could get on the road. “You get to finish those, and then we’ll get you out of here and into a bed with monkeys on the sheets.”

         Leo lifted his head, nearly dropping the piece of candy in his hand when his concentration broke and frowning in confusion. “Jemma?”

         It made sense, wanting to know why plans had changed at the last minute, and he hurried to explain. “She’s stuck at work. I have your clothes and everything in my car so that you can nap on our way home.” A happy sound came from the Scotsman while Grant paused, thinking over how they could kill a bit more time before having to go anywhere. He got to his feet and started toward the door, calling out an explanation over his shoulder. “Jemma just said no chocolate, so I’m going to find you some pretzels.”

* * *

 

         The glove box was practically stuffed full of small bags of pretzels and cookies from the vending machine, enough so that Grant had to work to get it closed again. They were almost ready to go, and the only thing left to do was to get Leo moved from the wheelchair into the backseat so that they could actually get on the road and get home that much sooner. Of course, that would mean actually _convincing_ him to get into the backseat at all, which didn’t look like it would be happening any time soon. He was insisting on sitting in the front seat despite the fact that the back would be far more comfortable, and there were only so many arguments that could be made to try to convince him.

         “I told Jemma you would be _resting_ during the drive, and she _will_ kill me if she finds out that’s a lie. At least sit in the back so that we can _act_ like we listen to her from time to time.” With that, Grant opened the back passenger side door and pointedly gestured to the blanket and pillow inside. “Look, I even found your monkey pillowcase.”

         Leo didn’t even _try_ to speak then, making his own counter argument by staring up at his friend with slightly widened eyes. He’d gotten quite a few things to go his way with that exact expression since they’d met -- another five minutes that turned into another hour at the monkey exhibit at the zoo, a trip out for ice cream at almost one in the morning, a movie marathon of all eight Harry Potter movies with minimal bathroom breaks. The only time it _hadn’t_ worked was three months before, when he had said no to going along to the science convention. He would likely never be able to say no to it again.

         “Fine, but the seat will be reclined, and you only get two snacks -- one for each hour we’re on the road. Otherwise, you will be _relaxing_ and I get to pick the music.”

         The last condition wasn’t something that the Scot approved of, based on his expression, but it was enough of a compromise that he nodded anyway and allowed Grant to help him to his feet. In reality, he likely could have _walked_ out to the car, but a wheelchair eliminated worry for all parties involved, not that they’d have that luxury once they actually got back to the apartment building, but that was something they could figure out in two hours.

         Before he even knew how to react, he had two arms wrapped around his waist, and a head of curls tickling his chin. The hug was entirely unexpected, though he likely should have seen it coming -- Leo was the kind of person that would drop into his lap with no warning simply because he wanted to, or sat too close while trying to make a point, or grabbed onto someone’s sleeve while talking to make sure he had their full attention. Then, he’d spent the majority of three months _in a bed_ , most physical contact limited to doctors bustling around to check his vitals or an hour of physical therapy every day. A hug at a time like that was entirely logical, but that didn’t stop Grant from hesitating before he actually reacted to it.

         After those few moments that seemed to drag out while his mind combed through his various options, he put his arms around his shorter friend in a somewhat tighter embrace than the one holding him where he was. A hug, no matter how short lived, was _nice_ , especially after months of nothing more than minimal soft touches and limited conversation, and he was going to appreciate it as much as he could. He could actually feel the scientist trembling against his chest, though whether it was because of what had happened with his head, the cool outside air, or some other reason, he couldn’t say for sure.

         Grant moved slowly while pulling away, gently guiding his friend closer to the car with a small shake of his head. “Come on, let’s get you in the car so that we can get on the road. I’ll let you hug me all you want once we’re there -- so we’re not standing out in the middle of a parking lot in the cold.” He at least got a nod in return, but even once Leo was sitting in the passenger’s seat, he had to carefully detach pale fingers from where they clung to his jacket. “The pretzels are in the glove box if you want a bag while I bring the wheelchair back inside. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

         He almost closed the door before he noticed the hand still stretched out toward him, frowning with concern while crouching down to be at eye level with the Scotsman in the car. There was no time to even ask what was wrong before there was a tight hold on the brown leather of his sleeve, one that meant he wouldn’t be moving again right away. Without any kind of hesitation, he gave Leo the chance to articulate what he needed to say, prepared to wait for as long as it took.

         It didn’t take long at all to see that simply waiting wouldn’t get them anywhere -- there was a hint of distress in the younger man’s eyes while he struggled to find the right words, the tremor in his left hand getting worse while he quickly shook his head. There was no need for such a level of stress over something so simple, though it was clear that saying that would only make matters worse.

         Instead, Grant went down on one knee and gently uncurled the fingers from his jacket so that he could take the slightly smaller hand in one of his. “Leo, take your time.” He watched him for a few moments, waiting on any kind of response -- silent or otherwise -- to his statement. It took a few minutes, and he almost worried that he wasn’t going to get one until a trembling hand came up to grasp the sleeve of his jacket again.

         “Cold.”

         With a soft, reassuring smile, Grant nodded his head before gently squeezing his fingers around the hand still settled comfortably in his own. “Okay. I’ll get the blanket from the back seat.” Before he could even stand up straight again, the fingers curled around his jacket tightening, presumably, to keep him right where he was -- or, to cling to the leather and make a point. _Oh_. “Fine, you can have my jacket during the drive, but as soon as we get back to the apartment, I want it back.”

         All he got in a response while he straightened up to shrug his jacket off was a happy hum and a hand stretched out to take it from him when he was left in his t-shirt and jeans. With a soft sigh, he passed it over and shook his head before kneeling down again. “Okay, _now_ , I’m going to take the wheelchair back inside. Stay here, and try not to make a mess if you have pretzels.”

* * *

 

         It was a struggle just to get the door open. Not for the usual reason, either -- Leo and Jemma’s lock worked just fine -- but because his hands were very _full_. After parking the car, Grant had realized that the Scottish scientist had fallen asleep in the passenger’s seat, which meant he was stuck carrying a backpack, a bag of snacks, and an _entire person_ up to the fourth floor. The only other option he really had was to wake him up, and he did _not_ want to deal with a grumpy, half asleep Leo for as long as it took to get upstairs. It was really just simpler to carry him.

         At least, it was until he realized he didn’t have a free hand to actually open the door with.

         It took almost a full two minutes just to get the key in the lock, and then it was another struggle entirely to twist everything the right direction so that he could push the door open. By the time he was able to lay his sleeping friend across the cushions of the couch, Grant was both physically and mentally exhausted, sitting down on the floor with a sigh and trying to make himself stay awake. There was no telling how long it would be until Jemma got home from  work, and that meant he was in charge of the apartment for the foreseeable future -- and that included going back down to the car to get the pillow and blanket still in the backseat.

         With a sigh, he forced himself to his feet again. Maybe the rest of the things in the car could wait, but he at least had to close the door to the apartment so that the sound of the elevator wouldn’t be a problem.

* * *

 

         By the time Jemma actually walked through the door, the sun had long since gone since gone down, and the only real light in the entire apartment was coming from the movie playing on the laptop on the coffee table. Grant had set up a monkey documentary to play as background noise while he tried to think of what to do for his next video, and Leo was wide awake, watching it intently with his head in his friend’s lap. A hand was outstretched to gently rub the Scot’s stomach and unsteady fingers clung to the arm over him to keep it there, welcoming the contact. They’d been there, in that position, for a little more than an hour, and it must have been some kind of miracle that they weren’t both starting to drift off.

         When the door closed again, he was careful to only turn the top half of his body so that he didn’t disrupt  the calm that had fallen over them during the movie. Grant offered a small smile to the English scientist when she flicked on the kitchen light, speaking up quickly to explain the plates in the sink. “We got hungry, and I hadn’t heard from you, so I made pizza rolls. I would have made something better, but I didn’t know when you’d be back.”

         He watched while she sank down onto the other end of the couch, moving Leo’s socked feet into her lap and gaining his attention immediately. “I’m fine with you for eating without me. I got stuck at the lab for much longer than I thought I would.” She let out a sigh before leaning over to get a better look at the laptop screen. “What are we watching?”

         “Monkeys.”

         It was the first time the Scotsman had said anything since they’d eaten, and that fact alone was more than enough to demand Grant’s full attention. He kept his words quiet and casual, not wanting to make a big deal out of something so small, though he was sure at least some concern colored his tone. “You’ve been quiet tonight. I almost thought you went back to sleep.”

         In return, all he got was a small shake of Leo’s head before all three of them went silent for a few minutes. It had been a long day for all of them, it seemed, and the quiet night was exactly what they needed. Jemma was the one who actually interrupted the silence, yawning while she got to her feet. “I’m going to bed. Make sure Leo gets to his own at some point, too. You’re welcome to the couch if you want to stay the night.”

         Within half an hour, they were both asleep, the credits for the documentary scrolling on the screen. They would both be sore in the morning from sleeping in such an unnatural position, but for the moment, _sleep itself_ was more important than comfort.

* * *

 

         The video is two days late, but it’s early enough in the day that every viewer is eager for an explanation. With the familiar living room behind Grant on the screen, at least they know for sure that he’s not in any kind of emergency. Then again, even when Leo was in the hospital, the videos were nearly always on time, not that they really have to worry with such a wide smile on his face.

         “ _For the past two days, I have been talking to our landlord about making an exception for one of his biggest rules. Luckily, he said yes, and I got to go out and pick up a **big** gift for Leo earlier this morning. Dear Grant Ward from a month ago, do this sooner, because it’s honestly one of the best ideas you and Jemma have ever had._ ”

         He’s still grinning when the video comes to an end, giving no further explanation about what this _gift_ might be.

* * *

 

         Holding the squirming creature in his arms, Grant used his foot to gently knock on the door so that he wouldn’t startle it too much. It was hard enough to control when it wasn’t overly excited, and the fact that he was even bringing it over only hours after picking it up was only pushing things further. Still, letting him get settled and then moving him wouldn’t be great, either.

         He smiled when Jemma opened the door, watching her expression turn into one of confusion while she studied the animal in his hold. “What? I thought we agreed on-”

         “I _know_ what we agreed on, but this will be better. Trust me.”

         She rolled her eyes but waved him in, gesturing toward the couch. “Alright, fine. I’ll let you try this -- but know that if it doesn’t work out, we’ll go back to our original plan.”

         Over the back of the couch, he could see a familiar head of curly hair. In the few months that Leo had been home, he hadn’t left the apartment building more than a handful of times. His recovery had slowed and come to a stand still, which meant there were full days where he would shut them out and pretend to focus on whatever was playing on the television at any odd hour. It made everyone uneasy, and this entire plan was an effort to put things back on the right track.

         “Hey, Leo, I have someone here I want you to meet.” Grant sat down a full cushion away, keeping the wiggling, excited animal in his lap. He wasn’t all that surprised when his words didn’t actually draw a reaction, but he spoke up again, anyway, fully aware that the Scot was at least _listening_ , if not voicing any kind of response. “I’ve been talking to Phil, downstairs, and he agreed to make an exception to the no pets policy, just for us. I picked up this little guy this morning.”

         It seemed as though curiosity won out over stubbornness, and he let out a slow breath while shifting in his seat to move closer to his friend with a small smile. “His name is Mishka -- it’s Russian -- and he’s not quite a year old yet, so he’ll keep growing a bit, but hopefully not too much. A couple months ago, someone found him in the street, and they took him to a shelter because he was hurt, and they were able to patch him up. He’s basically a brand new dog.” Slowly, Grant let the animal out of his lap, keeping enough of a hold on it so that it would at least stay close while trying to balance on the unsteady surface of the couch’s cushions. “You can pet him, you know, just let him smell you first.”

         He watched while Leo lifted his head to look at the dog closely before letting him sniff his hand. A small smile started to appear when a cold, damp nose met bare skin, and a sense of relief came along with the expression. It seemed that the plan was _working_ , and that was all he needed to look back over at Jemma with a smug expression. They weren’t even to the best part yet.

         “Soft.” The Scottish scientist was running a hand over the dog’s back with a happy smile, not at all looking like he was about to complain about anything any time soon. It was likely the first time he’d spoken all day and, as unhappy as that thought was, it meant that having another living thing around was making it so that he could open up a bit more again.

         Grant let himself smile regardless of the details of the situation, loosening his hold on the animal further. “I figured you’d like him. He might be a bit unsteady on his feet, but I don’t think that’ll be a big problem. You’ll just have to let him take his time with some things.”

         He got a nod in response, and Mishka moved to put his head in Leo’s lap while letting out a content sound. It was clear, just from watching them, that there was going to be no problem in getting the two of them to get along. If anything, the hardest part might be getting them to separate even long enough for a meal. It was nice, and interrupting it was almost criminal.

         Of course, that didn’t stop him, but he did feel bad about it.

         “I think he likes you. He can stay at my place for a day or two, and I can bring him over here this afternoon so we can take him out on a walk. You can bond more before we move him in here.”

         It was impossible to miss the quiet sound of complaint that came from the other end of the couch, and Leo’s hand starting to tremble while he pet soft fur. “No. He can... st- stay here.” There was a beat while he took a breath, smiling down at the dog that had long since settled comfortably in his lap. “I like him.”

         The three words were delivered evenly, which was enough to shock the rest of the room into silence for a few moments. Speaking wasn’t entirely abnormal, obviously, but doing so as smoothly and calmly and with no stuttering, _that_ was slightly more unusual. It was a _good_ thing, of course, and it meant his recovery at least wasn’t starting to backslide. It was another step forward, and hopefully it would lead to more.

         Getting to his feet, Grant stepped over to the kitchen so that he could flash a smug grin in the direction of the other British scientist in the apartment while she poured a glass of juice for herself. “And you wanted to get him a _cat_.”

         “Fine. You win. I still say he would have been just fine with a cat -- it would be _smaller_ , at least.”

         He rolled his eyes at her with a sigh, shaking his head while turning around to face the couch again. “No, this is definitely better. Mishka will be good for him. There’s... one other thing that I haven’t said anything about yet.”

         Jemma watched him while he walked back over to the couch, sitting down closer to the middle cushion while clearing his throat. It was the part he was most reluctant to mention, simply because it was something too close to the situation they were trying to take the focus away from, but it was important, so it had to be discussed at some point.

         When the couch shifted with his weight, he caught sight of Mishka’s head shooting up to investigate, not at all surprised by the sudden shift of attention to himself. Then again, maybe having three gazes so intently focused on him wasn’t the best thing for the facts he had to put into words.

         “Um... When he was brought in, Mishka was in really bad shape, and he was in an emergency clinic for almost two weeks. Everything’s fine, now, and he’s doing a lot better, but... there are _some things_ that can’t necessarily be fixed with modern medicine. Because of how he was brought in, no one knows what happened -- he could have gotten hit by a car, or fallen somewhere -- but, there is some... minor... irreversible... brain trauma.”

         There was a groan from the kitchen, and Grant didn’t have to turn around to know exactly who was making the sound and why. In hindsight, it was probably a bad time to spring the news on anyone, but it had to be said some time. Besides Jemma’s initial response, the apartment was quiet save for the low sound of the television in the background, and that fact made him nervous. It was a fact that could ruin the entire dynamic that had already been tentatively established. “Leo?”

         The silence continued, and it only made him more nervous. He’d been trying to do something nice, but there was a very good chance it was about to blow up in his face. At least, he thought as much until he got an actual response, the accented voice quiet, but clear enough to be heard around the room.

         “I like him.”

* * *

 

         Grant had his arms crossed in front of his chest while he leaned against the reflective wall of the elevator. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from smiling while he watched the scene playing out in the middle of the small space in front of him.

         Leo was sitting on the floor, a wide grin on his face while the leash they’d attached to Mishka’s collar wrapped around him again. It was impossible to ignore the fact that he was laughing, very clearly amused and happy by the dog bouncing and dancing around him, sniffing at every little thing he could find. It wasn’t that funny, really, not funny at all, but there was something about the Scotsman’s laughter that was almost infectious.

         When the doors slid open, the engineer was on his feet quickly, untangling himself from the leash so that he could lead the dog out into the hallway. His grin was still in place, not about to fade any time soon. There was no telling _when_ his good mood would go away, but it certainly wouldn’t be a bad thing if it stuck around for a few days.

         Holding open the glass door for his friend and the only four legged tenant in the building, Grant shook his head while they stepped out into the sun with a faint smile finally forming on his face. “You know, if you’re not careful, you’re going to spread your good mood to the entire planet. I think I even saw Melinda May smiling at us when we got off the elevator.”

         The only response he got was the Scot rolling his eyes with a slightly softened expression. He was still very plainly grinning, but it was controlled, dulled to match his teasing words. “M-Melinda doesn’t... _smile_. Not... not unless she’s... _picked out another_... erm... victim.”

         “Leo, she used to be married to my therapist.” He shook his head, uncrossing his arms so that he could stick his hands in his pockets with a slowly growing smile. No one really knew who Melinda May was or what she did for a living, but there were quite a few rumors -- the most popular being that she was a serial killer who didn’t want to get close to anyone in case they discovered her secret. It was ridiculous, but that didn’t mean that people didn’t fully believe it.

         “So that... auto-auto... erm...”

         There was a pause while they walked, letting Mishka scout out his new territory and lead them down the block, and Grant only hesitated for a moment before offering his help. “Automatically?”

         “ _Yes_! Thank you -- _automatically_ means that she... can’t be a-a... um... _murderer_?”

          He rolled his eyes, shaking his head and fighting back the urge to actually grin at the ridiculousness of the conversation. Even if he would never say it out loud, he knew Leo had a point -- being married to a man who knew the ins and outs of psychology didn’t necessarily make you entirely sane. There wasn’t exactly a _sane by association_  clause when it came to that sort of thing. “It means she’d have to be _really good_  to avoid getting caught. Andrew could have gone all _Criminal Minds_  on her and profiled the killings if she was doing anything too crazy.”

          The Scot next to him scoffed, giving a short shake of his head. “Or... he _knows_... sh-she could have, erm, _broken if off_... because he...learn- found out...!” Nodding, he adjusted his grip on the leash with a small, smug smile. Just that morning, Leo had been miserable and silent and closed off, and here he was, only a few hours later, joking around with his friend and walking his new pet -- _happy_. “May-maybe he’s... gonna be... uh, _next_. Maybe start, erm... looking for a... a new... a new therapist.”

          Grant shook his head, reaching out to put his arm around the scientist’s shoulders with a slowly growing smile. “Maybe you can help me. You’re better at all that research stuff than I am -- you can probably find someone I’d be willing to talk to. You definitely know me well enough.”

          He wasn’t at all surprised by the body leaned into his side, the warmth radiating into his skin. The position was almost a familiar one, the closeness a kind of reassurance that, after everything, they were both still standing, and able to be as happy as they were in that moment. No matter what the universe had thrown at them, they both made it through to the other side. Recovery was a long process, but they’d get through it -- the only problem was that one of them refused to admit they had something to recover from.

* * *

 

          The living room wall isn’t in the background of the frame, but it can be assumed that he’s still in his own apartment based on the pillow propped up behind him and the picture on the table in the corner of the screen. It’s very clearly Grant there, in the photograph, seated next to Leo, both of them intently focused on whatever they were doing with the video game controllers in their hands. Of course, the thing the viewers are focusing on isn’t the picture, but the change of setting, and the fact that he isn’t alone.

          That isn’t abnormal, of course -- he does videos about his neighbors all the time -- but the fact that Leo is laying down and barely on screen means he won’t be the focus of the few minutes. It can easily be chalked up to a day spent together, or a lazy afternoon, but the expression on Grant’s face means it’s something a bit more serious than that.

          “ _Look, I don’t do personal videos very often. I do silly videos about how getting a dog is a great idea, or more serious ones about recent choices I’ve made, or even overly sappy ones about my friends. But personal ones are rare, and that’s because I don’t like talking about my past. Today, I’m going to try to do that, so Leo is here for moral support -- because I think I’m going to need it._ ”

          He takes a deep breath and looks back over at his friend for a moment, looking toward the camera again after receiving a small, reassuring nod. It’s still another moment before he speaks, not letting his gaze waver from the camera for even a few moments at a time. “ _Dear Grant Ward from about... fifteen years ago -- don’t let your brother scare you into doing things you’ll regret later, don’t let him get into your head, and definitely don’t try to get revenge by setting the house on fire. You’ll only get into more trouble, and... and everything will just get worse from there._ ” Grant stops again, dropping his gaze so that he doesn’t have to look directly into the camera while taking a deep breath and forcing out the words so that he could finish. “ _I made... quite a few mistakes when I was younger, and then I made more and more mistakes, and I know that I can’t go back and change most of them. But the biggest mistake I made was not talking to anyone about anything. That’s what I’m supposed to be doing, with my therapy, and this channel, and I haven’t been doing that a whole lot._ _The next few videos on this channel will be about what I know I should talk about more -- I set my childhood home on fire to get back at my older brother, I let a complete stranger break me out of juvie, and that got me arrested because I was an accessory to... a lot of not so good things._

_“I spent a few months in jail, and I would have spent more time there if not for my family’s money. They got me out way earlier than my original release date, and they used their connections to keep me from getting into any more trouble. With the new settlement, I had to move to some place completely new -- here -- and talk to a therapist regularly and stay out of trouble so that I didn’t keep dragging the family’s good name through the mud._ ”

          Leo moves slowly, leaning into his friend’s side with a weak frown and inadvertently putting himself further into the frame of the video. He looks tired, and maybe a bit wary of where else this story could go, but he doesn’t seem to want to move away -- he’s there for moral support, and he’s going to provide exactly that.

          Taking another slow breath, Grant puts his arm around the Scotsman with a faint smile before looking into the camera again. “ _My point is, sixteen year old Grant Ward, tell people about how much of an asshole Christian is. Talk to someone about what **really**  happened with Thomas, and accept whatever consequences come your way. Don’t let it eat you up until you explode because of it. Don’t let anyone get away with making you hurt like that -- but don’t try to take care of it yourself, either. Let professionals handle it. Find someone like Andrew, or Leo, or anyone else who will listen and give you advice. I know you’re practically an adult, and you don’t think you need help, but you **do** , and it will save you so much trouble in the long run._”


End file.
